The Selection- Take 3
by ShinySilverVolvo
Summary: Summary: 5 generations later. 35 girls. One prince. A new Selection has begun. ((see the epilogue for extended summary))
1. Epilogue

Summary:

5 generations later. 35 girls. One prince. A new Selection has begun.

/

The castes and rebels are long gone, but there is still unrest in Illea, despite all the years that have passed. Royal families soon learned that removing the caste system worked as much as changing a person's name- they might not be called the same thing, but they were still the same person. 6's, 7's and 8's struggled to find work due to lack of previous experience- it was a poverty cycle. 2's and 3's still had the same privileges- private schools, better healthcare, better living conditions in general, etc. Castes 4 and 5 never rose or fell- they were still envying the higher castes and pitying the lowers castes. The gaps between people was getting more and more evident, nearly as bad as when the caste system was still in place. The current royal family decide to have one last attempt at bringing their kingdom together- they hold a selection for their son, Prince James Schreave.

/

Epilogue:

"Fallon! It's about to start!" My mother screeched from beside me, as if I wasn't already aware of the fact. My brother and I shared a glance, dreading what her reaction would be when I wasn't announced as a selected on the report. When it finally turned eight o'clock and the national emblem rose up on the screen, she clenched my hand so hard I was afraid it might fall off due to the lack of blood circulation.

All of the royal family were seated before the camera, graceful and poised as ever. King Philip, Queen Cordelia, Prince James himself, and his two younger sisters- Marigold and Primrose. The King and Queen were beaming into the camera, even more so than they always did. The prince's expression was unreadable- his lips were pulled up into a thin smile, but his hazel eyes looked deeply troubled. Maybe he was only now realising that his belt didn't go with his shoes. The twin princess' were looking lovely as ever- their blonde waves pulled half up and half down, and their pink and purple dresses shimmering under the spotlights. Even at the young age of 10, they were managing to sit stiller than James, who looked like he wanted to make a run for it.

"Isn't he handsome!" My mother gushed. "Don't you think Fallon would look so pretty seated on a throne of her own next to him, Joseph?" She asked my brother, her eyes wide and sparkling as much as the gems littered over the Queen's gown.

I scowled deeply, my eyebrows turning down and my jaw jutting outwards. Joey sat back and laughed, his too-long hair blowing into his eyes.

"Have I ever told you how unattractive you look when you smile, Fal?"

"I think I recall a few times, with you using much stronger words than 'unattractive'."

Mom hushed us and I sat in silence whilst the introductions were made. I could almost feel the suspense and impatience hanging over the whole of Illea. The host- Ramsey Low- pulled out a notepad, and it was clear that everyone knew what was written inside.

"The time has come that we must reveal the thirty-five young ladies chosen for the Selection. Ladies and gentlemen, please join me in congratulating the following Daughters of Illéa!"

Mom clapped her hands frantically, practically bouncing up and down in her seat. My stomach clenched with butterflies, and I knew that I wouldn't be able tear my eyes away from the screen if I tried.

Did a part of me desperately want to be chosen for the selection? Yes. But so did every other girl in Illea. It was all my friends had been talking about ever since we'd filled out the forms and gotten our pictures taken. It would be a relief to not have the possibility hanging over me. That was what I told myself, at least.

"Miss Helena Patel of Bonita, painter." An image of a petite Asian girl filled the screen. She had small brown eyes and a heavy blush painted onto her cheeks. Now that the castes were no more (or the labels of them, at least) the girl's occupation was listed next to her name instead of a number.

"Miss Genevieve Roland of Lakedon, model." She was a pretty blonde girl with delicate blue eyes- she looked so fragile that I was afraid if someone were to shove her that she might snap in half.

"Miss Celaena Hemmings of Kent, maid." The girl had thick black hair and brown eyes. Her face was clean enough, but I could see traces of dirt and frayed material on the clothes she was wearing. I wasn't the only one either- I could practically hear my mother wincing at her appearance.

"Miss Coraline Welsh of Waverly, dancer." This girl had the best posture and stance so far. If her occupation hadn't been announced, I would have guessed that she was a dancer. She had smooth, dark skin and her un-tame curls were somehow beautiful in their own way.

"Miss Kirby Matthews of Allens, architect." If her smile grew any bigger, I was sure that the girl's face would crack in two. I could feel my mom's grip on my hand grow tighter with every girl announced that wasn't me.

"Miss Fallon Night of Dakota, writer." I was about to make a comment on the next girl to appear on the screen like I had with every other, but then I realized it was me. All three of us did a double take, and I was pretty sure my heart stopped beating. Mom let out a piercing scream, snapping me out of my state. Joey just looked at me and grinned, and I suppose I was smiling a bit. Dear lord, you would be too if you'd been chosen out of the thousands of other girls from your province to live in the palace and compete for the prince's heart.

"Congrats, Fallon. Send me a post card while you're there."

"She's not leaving yet!" My mother cried out, gripping me and pulling me to her chest. "You looked so beautiful in your picture too! I was afraid you'd scowl and ruin it for yourself."

I frowned at her comment, making both of them laugh.

"It's true, Fal. You didn't look as weird as you normally do." Joey commented, tugging on a strand of my hair. I was vaguely aware of the phone ringing in the background, and of the TV still playing as the remainder of the girls were selected. I sat back down on the sofa, my legs wobbly. I grinned so hard that my mouth hurt.


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter one:

Over the next few weeks, the only time I got to myself was when I was sleeping. There was always someone who wanted to talk to me, wanted my measurements, or even an autograph. There were so many names and faces I had to remember, I thought my brain would explode with all the information. My organiser, Ella, was already drilling me with pop-quizzes.

It was early in the morning, and I groaned as the sun leaked through my bedroom window. I dragged myself out of bed and put on a dressing gown, following the smell of food to the kitchen. Mom was standing over the stove with a content smile on her face, which widened when she saw me.

"Todays the day! How are you feeling?" She asked me, sounding like one of the many interviewers I had to talk to.

"Hungry." I grumbled along with my stomach. She served me some pancakes- the only food she was able to cook without burning the house down.

"Ella dropped off your outfit for the airport a little while ago. You just missed her."

"Shame." I replied sarcastically. Sweet as she could be, Ella was an absolute pest. She had to be in control of everything, no matter how minor.

"Don't be so rude, Fallon. She's only trying to help you. God knows, you need it."

She was right, I wasn't as well trained as I thought I was. To quote Ella word for word, my posture was "Just about as good as a sloth's" and "I once met a horse who had better manners."

I walked into the living room to inspect the clothes, praying for something not too ridiculous. They had scraped the old selected uniform due to the complaining magazine companies, who wanted before and after pictures of each selected. It was a dress- of course- in a baby pink colour made with thin cotton material; perfect for a summers day in Angeles. Next to the dress lay a sheer white blazer with ruffles at the end of the sleeves. It seemed kind of pointless to me, but I suppose it was rather pretty. Ella had also taken it upon herself to pick out underwear for me too, which I rolled my eyes at.

"What time do they pick me up at again?'

Mom tutted and checked her watch. "Ella told you this, Fallon. You have two hours before the car arrives. The journey to the airport is one hour- the selected from Calgary and Belcourt will be there already. The plane ride is four. Ella will sort you out from there."

Despite the scatterbrain that she usually was, my Mom would've made a great secretary. Of course, the job she had left us much better off- swimsuit modelling. My brother and I were grateful for the large house and small luxuries, but to put it plainly, it was embarrassing to have pictures of your Mom wearing the bare minimum on the front of clothing stores and magazines. The fact that there was no father in the picture and she was practically young enough to be our sister made things worse.

I grabbed the clothes and went upstairs to change, trying not to think about possibly being away from home for a number of months. I suppose it would be a good thing if I didn't come back so soon, though.

The dress was body con, and fitted me like a glove. It was a strapless number, so my collarbones and shoulders- now completely lowered and poised- were on display. The blazer's fabric was itchy, but as Ella quoted "Beauty is pain."

I started packing the meagre possessions I was allowed to bring- no clothes or food. The palace would dress, feed, bathe and look after me- I was officially Illea's property. I had been told so when someone from the palace staff had been sent to go over a rather precarious set of rules and 'guidelines'. He had had some nerve, even my mother thought so- which was a surprise, because lately she'd turned into the most patriotic being I'd ever met. The suitcase almost looked empty, for all I'd packed was: pens and a notepad; an unfinished novel; a single framed picture of Mom, Joey and I; ballet pointes and my mother's old wedding ring- it had been a bitter reminder of what could have been for her, so she'd given it to me, not caring what happened to it. She didn't know that I had kept it as one of my most cared for possessions for over ten years now.

/

Much to my surprise, the two hours flew by. I didn't even have time to feel nervous in the process, with all the palaver going on. We were picked up and driven to the square, where everyone in Dakota would give me a send-off. I was squirming uncomfortably in my seat, and Joey reached over to grab my hand. He squeezed it reassuringly and winked at me, a smile on his handsome face as per usual. Mom was staring out of the window, far too excited to take my feelings into consideration.

The car stopped and I had to force the thought out of my head. I plastered a smile on my face as I was unnecessarily helped out of the car, aware of the camera's filming my every move. As I stood up properly, the applause was much louder than I expected it to be. My mother reveled in it, smiling beautifully and waving before I'd even had the chance to process the number of people standing in front of me. If the roles were reversed and my mother had been selected, I was positive that she would get to be an elite, or even win the whole thing. She was so sweet and lovely, and knew all the right things to say. I was usually just her duller, plainer and unimpressive daughter, trailing behind her.

I felt a small pang of annoyance as I watched her stand in front of me, turning as many people's attention towards her as possible. I adjusted my stance and smiled just as gracefully as Ella had taught me to, trying to ignore the flashing lights. With my hand still in Joey's, I greeted Mayor Johnson, who was trying to quiet the crowd enough so that he could introduce us. He smiled at me with a great delight as I approached, and placed a kiss on the back of my hand. Johnson was a balding man, perhaps in his mid-fifties. He was the type of guy who you could tell was attractive as a young man, but didn't age well.

"Would you like to speak?" He asked me, not bothering to greet Joseph. I was about to turn him down, like I was sure every other selected would. But looking at the crowd, the press, and my mother- who was finally paying me some attention, and grinning up at me with encouragement- I thought better of it.

As I reached for the microphone, a hush fell over the crowds. I cleared my throat as quietly as possible, and held my head high for all of Dakota to see.

"I just want to thank you all for being here- I don't know what I'd do without all the support from my province." There were some stray cheers and the sounds of paparazzi snapping pictures. "It could have been any one of the beautiful girls standing before me in this crowd, but it was me, and no one will ever understand how grateful I am for that. All of you standing here before me are what makes Dakota so beautiful, and Dakota has made me the girl I am today. I love you all for that." Before I could get anymore in, the mayor delicately pried the microphone from my hands, making the most of the silence.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, please join me in sending off Fallon Night, our favorite Daughter of Illéa!" The people went crazy once more, and I stepped off the podium towards them. I could feel that my cheeks were flushed and my eyes were wild. Before I could sign any autographs or give any hugs, I was guided by a guard to yet another car- but to be honest, this one was more of a limo. Girls and boys edged forward as far as they could with the guard shadowing me, and tried to brush their fingers against my arm or touch my dress, as if I was some kind of miracle worker. I just faced forward and smiled, overwhelmed by it all.

I stopped outside of the vehicle, and turned around to face my little family. It dawned on me that if things went well, I wouldn't be seeing them again anytime soon. My eyes welled as my brother pulled me into a bear hug.

"Good luck, Fal. Seriously. I love you." He stepped away from me before I could reply, leaving me with my mother. She was crying pretty tears, her nose pink and her eyes shining.

"Don't cry, mom. I'll probably be back soon anyway." I said lightly, taking her hand.

"Don't say that, Fallon. The prince will love you- how could he not?" Her voice was unstable and choked up. I pulled her into a hug, praying that she wouldn't fall apart in front of everyone.

"You're so beautiful. I know you don't believe me, but you are." She played with a lock of my hair, then smiled weakly and stepped away, allowing the guard to quite literally put me into the car.

"I love you honey!"

"I love you too, Mom." I replied, but the doors were already shut. I wondered if she'd be okay without me- if Joey would take care of her. My stomach clenched and I tried my best not to cry. Crying wasn't my thing- it was sticky, wet, made my eyes blotchy and my mascara run. So I sat back, shut my eyes, and concentrated on the soothing hum of the engine.


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter two:

I was last to arrive at the airport, and the other two girls didn't look too happy about having to wait. I soon worked them out to be Rosabella Adonna of Belcourt and Clementine Adlington of Calgary. Rosabella was already tall, but her height was made towering by her five inch heels. She was lean- almost lanky looking, but not quite. She wore a bright red jumpsuit that flowed down to her ankles, and she wore it well. Rosabella's eyes were a cat green color, and her cheek bones were high and glazed with highlight. I realized that I hadn't bothered with makeup this morning, and suddenly felt incredibly self-conscious.

Clementine looked ridiculously short beside her, and was almost hunching her back. Ella would probably have a heart attack at the sight. She wore a light lilac dress that went down to the floor, and had daisies braided into her hair. Her light brown eyes were jumpy and nervous, though I couldn't work out why.

"I hope I didn't keep you waiting too long." I said cautiously, making sure to keep my voice steady.

Rosabella looked me up and down, as if wondering whether to deign to reply to me or not. "Forty minutes." She said disinterestedly.

"My apologies." My voice was so formal and unlike itself that it almost sounded sarcastic. Rosabella gave me a once over with the hint of a scowl on her face whilst Clementine cowered against a wall. I supposed if you looked at it from an outsider's point-of-view, it would be kind of funny.

The staring contest continued for a few minutes, when a man- who, judging by his uniform, was the captain- walked through the doors.

"Right this way, ladies. Sorry to keep you waiting."

Clementine hesitated, as if wondering whether she should drop down into a curtsy or not. Rosabella brushed past us all, unfazed and unbothered. I got the feeling that she wouldn't show any interest towards anything apart from the prince for as long as she was in the palace. To be honest, that probably should've been my mindset, too. I think I was just too much of a decent human being.

Once we were seated on the plane, I got out my writing equipment. I had only travelled by plane a few times, but they'd never frightened me. And I didn't think I was going to become best friends with either one of the other selected anytime soon, so I blocked them out and concentrated on my work.

In total, I had three published books- one of which was a bestseller. I was hoping that my fourth would add to the collection. Nothing of mine had been published for over a year- which wasn't too good, especially since writing was my only occupation. I suppose I could just publish a story about my time at the palace- that was sure to sell. But something about the experience seemed too intimate for me to put on display for all of Illea to see. So I continued from where I left off- my first chance in weeks. Recently, I hadn't been able to concentrate on anything apart from The Selection. I was only just realizing how much I had neglected my work.

Jesus Christ, this thing had better be worth it.

I wrote, planned and worked until my wrist ached. I hadn't eaten anything on the plane- no matter how royal, plane food was still plane food. Once we arrived in Angeles, we were helped off of the aircraft and allowed to stretch our legs. We were guided through the empty airport, our luggage being carried for us. As we got closer to the exit, the sound of people screaming and cheering became more and more evident. Clementine's face paled, and I wondered how she'd made it through the send-off. Rosabella had been walking in front of us at a fast pace, clearly anxious to get to the palace and settle into her new royal life as soon as possible. But as the doors opened and we were welcomed to a whole new set of adoring faces and screaming fans, I strode past her with a small grin on my face and welcomed them with waves and blowing kisses. I hugged everyone I could reach, and I'll admit, I put on a bit of a show for the camera's. Who knew when my next chance to look good would be? I even got a few people asking for book signings, which I was delighted by.

Eventually we were made aware of the time, and left for the palace. Clementine looked so relieved to get away from the crowds that I had to try my best not to laugh.

The roads were littered with banners and posters of peoples favorite selected. Both of the girls' faces were unreadable, and I wasn't sure if I wanted to know what they were thinking. I refrained from looking out of the windows, merely because I wasn't particularly bothered to find out where I was ranked in the public's eyes. If I was going to do well in The Selection, I couldn't let myself be swayed in any way because of peoples first impressions. I hadn't been sure how I was going to play my time at the palace- many options had been laid out before me. Who did I want to be? An America Singer? A Celeste Newsome? A Mary Sue? I realized that the reason I had had so much trouble choosing was because I didn't want to play any of the roles given. I truly wanted to be myself- cliché as it might sound. So I decided the only person I would be playing was Fallon Night, and I wouldn't let any scheming bitch or golden prince change that.

With that defiant thought, the car rolled to a stop on a pebbled driveway. There was a team of very stressed looking people, all dressed in smart white shirts and black trousers. One of them was gripping what looked like a check list, and he scribbled something down as he spotted us pull up in the car. I opened the door by myself, trying to make it clear that I didn't need help getting in and out of a vehicle. Before I had managed to walk a step, a small group of the people rushed over to me, shot multiple photos that I'm sure I looked horrific in, then grabbed by forearms and practically lifted me indoors.

"The Great Hall is the third door on the left. Hurry!" One of them hissed, and they all rushed back outside.

I frowned and straightened out my outfit, kissing my teeth and muttering to myself unhappily. I counted three and then heaved the heavy mahogany door open. I was instantly hit with the smells of hair spray, nail varnish and sweet perfumes. People were running around frantically and shouting out phrases like "That makes her look blotchy!" and "She could barely walk in three inches, let alone six!"

Before I'd had time to take in the whole scene, I was pulled into a sectioned off part of the hall by someone. A group of business-like looking women were huddled in a circle, watching a selected- Juliet Hayes, if I remembered correctly- getting her photo taken. She sat on a plush throne-like chair placed upon a green-screen background.

"Ladies! There you are." I heard a familiar voice say from behind me. Sure enough, it was Ella. She wore a dress so bright pink that it hurt my eyes to look at it. "I want Rosabella with Carla, at station four." All the action had made me forget that there were two other girls behind me. A maid took her lightly by the wrist and rushed off to where I assumed was station four, and she easily kept up with those long legs of hers.

"Clementine, darling, you're at station eleven. And Fallon… Esme, please take Fallon to Michael."

With that, I was pulled over and told to sit down in a seat and wait for Michael- whoever that was. All around me, there were selected being pampered, trimmed and polished by a gaggle of maids and makeup artists. Some were even getting their hair dyed a completely different color, which seemed kind of scary to me. Though my mind went blank on a few, I was pleased to say that I could remember nearly all of the girls' names. Some of the pictures did their beauty no justice, whereas others were made to be so flattering that I didn't recognize them at first. I was getting slightly restless- after all, I had been in cars and planes for the majority of the day. I was considering getting up and going on a little walk, when a man- in his mid-thirties, perhaps- strode over to me. He had a name tag that read 'Michael', so I assumed this was who I had been assigned to.

Michael stopped a few paces away from me, and looked at me from head to toe very slowly and very dramatically. He bent down to his knees, and then started moving into weird positions, his eyes scanning me as if I were a highly complex algebra equation. This carried on for at least five minutes, and I didn't move- purely out of awkwardness.

Suddenly, Michael stood up straight and walked the rest of the distance towards me.

"You must be Fallon, darling!" He exclaimed, as if the past few minutes hadn't happened. He took a lock of my hair and felt it around in his hands, sniffing it and even rubbing it against his cheek. The expression on my face must have been good, because when he saw it he laughed for a good thirty seconds.

"Now let's see…" his eyes narrowed and he examined my face from the closer view. A group of maids and people with trolleys of makeup products and hair instruments had gathered around quietly, and I grew slightly uncomfortable with the closeness of it all.

"Your skin is as pale as a sheet of paper." Michael commented, and the rest of the group gave a collective nod, murmering their opinions. My eyebrows shot up, but I refrained from saying anything.

"To the tanning salon?" One of them asked.

The girl standing next to her shook her head. "We're better off just using bronzer."

"Hush!" Michael snapped, and they all backed up a few steps. "Don't you see? We can use this!" Every word that came out of his mouth was so exaggerated and dramatic, I had to stop myself from laughing. "Her eyelashes are so dark and thick. We could give her a signature winged eyeliner! Or a signature red lip! Oh, the possibilities!" The man looked as though he might start hyperventilating. "She could be the pale beauty of the selection! Fallon is such a beautiful name for it, too."

I suppose I should have been pleases by the 'compliments', but I just sat uselessly in my chair, feeling dazed and overwhelmed. The rest of the group looked at Michael in awe, as if he had just preached the words of the gospel.

"You have such beautiful blue eyes! So bright! Almost grey!" He continued, prodding and poking at the skin on me cheeks. "But your hair… Why are all of my selected brunettes?" He whined, wiping his forehead in despair. "I need variety, people. Variety!"

"We could dye it blonde?" Someone suggested meekly, and I scowled, sitting up in panic. Before I could protest, Michael did my job for me.

"No, you idiot! That'll wash her out completely. Not to mention take away the shine!" The person ducked back into the crowd, while the rest tutted in agreement. "I'm thinking highlights…" Michael continued, his brows furrowing in deep thought.

My mother had always gone on about wanting me to get highlights in my hair, but I had never complied. Honestly, I was scared of the change. But girls were getting inches taken off their hair today, and I'd even seen one go from a blonde to a red-head. So I sat back and let the experts do their work, wanting to show that I'd sacrifice just as much as any other girl here. They started talking about different shades and tones, and soon enough I was told enough to lay my head back into the sink while they got to work.

The whole process took quite some time, especially as they made me sit under some weird dryer machine thing for ages after it was done. Michael had put me in the hands of someone specialized in hair, and she wasn't too interested in chatting. A maid came over to do my nails while I waited, and gave me what I think was called a French manicure. I spent the rest of my time flicking through magazines and people watching.

Eventually Michael walked back over, looking genuinely excited to see what had happened to my hair. He unwrapped the towel and screeched, and for a moment I thought that something had gone horribly wrong. But then he spun me around so I faced a mirror, and I was mostly relieved to say that it did look pretty good- though I wasn't sure it deserved that big of a reaction. The base color was practically the same, but was now complimented with strands of different, slightly lighter shades. Michael had deigned to keep it long- it apparently "added to my ethereal, regal but somehow sharp looking beauty"- but he had styled it so that my features looked less child-like and more defined.

Soon after, a makeup table was brought over to my station and a young girl- not much older than me- named Chloe worked on my face while Michael watched, humming in approval every so often. I lightly asked her not to pile it on, and all three of us agreed that foundation wouldn't do anything for my skin. I managed to convince her to go easy on the eyeshadow too, but they both insisted on eyeliner and multiple layers of mascara. They didn't even ask me before the heavy red lipstick was applied, as Michael said he would "Not be able to go on if you refuse to wear it."

They added some color to my cheeks, because "As lovely as the 'pale beauty' idea is, we can't be having you look like a complete ghost."

When it was complete, they spun my chair around so I could look into the mirror. I didn't say anything first, and Michael frowned worriedly.

"If you really hate it that much, I'm sure there's something we could do."

I shook my head frantically and met his eyes in the mirror. "No- I don't hate it at all. It's perfect." I blurted out, checking my face from every angle. I had never really been the vein type, but I couldn't help myself. It had been a long time since I'd felt this pretty, even with 34 other model-like girls in the room. Michael and Chloe had somehow transformed me without really transforming me at all. I still looked like me, just… slightly more fit to wear a crown.

Chloe nodded in acknowledgment and walked away before I had the chance to thank her. Michael sat himself down next to me, and propped his head up on his chin.

"I assume that Ella has gone over posture, speaking techniques and manners with you?"

"She certainly has." I replied, remembering those long, dull hours.

"I just want to remind you that as important as it is to follow her instructions, you must remember not to be too dull."

"Uhhh, okay." I said cautiously, wondering where he was headed with the conversation.

"I've helped you with your image, sweetie, but only you can decide your character."

"I think I'll just be myself," I said, repeating my thoughts from the car journey. "That way, I won't get caught up in any lies."

Michael eyed me carefully, and raised his manicured eyebrows. "You won't believe how shy the girls have been today. And how little they've said in the interviews!"

"Maybe they're just trying to get used to the setting." I said, my face void of expression.

"All I'm trying to say is that I need you to try and stand out for me, Fallon. I see that you can, but not that you will."

Despite the fact that it was very possible Michael had given all his girls this little pep talk, he was probably right. "Any other pearls of wisdom?"

"Don't you dare even think about being anything other than confident- I'll take it as a personal insult if you do. I've made you beautiful, so use it." He ordered, then took my hand and guided me out of my chair. He whisked my off to a clothing rack with my name written on a tag around the metal pole. They seemed far too extravagant to be day dresses in my opinion, but I said nothing and let Michael pick one out. I ended up wearing a lovely light blue dress, made with gauzy material and multiple layers. It had spaghetti straps and a v-neck, fit tightly around my waist and flared out delicately at the hip.

I waited in line for my after-shot, watching the girls before me. Directly in front of me was no other than Rosabella Adonna, who was looking lovelier than ever. She now wore a purple fit and flare dress that came up to her mid-thigh, showcasing her never-ending legs. Her blonde hair was pulled up into a tight bun, decorated with gems and pearls- it almost looked tiara-like. I watched her pose for the photo, and realized that one of these pictures would be going on the cover of Illea's report magazine.

Soon enough it was my turn, and I sat down on the seat carefully. I pushed my shoulders back and allowed pieces of hair to tickle my neck. I crossed my ankles and placed my hands on my lap, praying that I didn't look too awkward. I looked into the camera lense and smiled- it was small, but not meek. More like a purposeful half-smile, on the verge of being sarcastic, but not quite. It was over much sooner than expected, and out of the corner of my eye I saw Michael give me a thumbs up before he disappeared again.

I was taken to one side by a lady whose name tag read 'Laura', and sat down on a sofa. In front of me was another camera, but I had been seeing them all day now that it would almost have been weird not to have one there.

"We're going to ask you a few short questions before you leave, if that's alright." She spoke very formally, not taking her eyes off of her clipboard.

"That's fine." I replied politely, knowing that I didn't actually have a choice.

The red light turned on, and I didn't even have time to be nervous before the first question was asked.

"Fallon Night, am I correct?"

"Yes." I replied, surprised at how sure and steady my voice sounded.

"I must say, you do look wonderful. Are you happy with your makeover?"

"Completely. I'm particularly pleased that they decided to embrace my pale skin- it'll be a reminder of Dakota, and of the horrible weather I left behind."

She laughed. "What are your first impressions of the palace?"

"Camera's truly do this place no justice. I can't wait to explore."

"How do you feel about your competition so far?" I scraped my brain for something suitable to say, and hoped the hesitation didn't show on my face.

"I've been taught to never judge a book by its cover, so I'll be glad to get to know all the girls better soon."

"Are you nervous about your meeting with the prince tomorrow?"

"I'd say I'm more excited than nervous. How scary could he be?"


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter 3:

Once my interview ended, I made my way over to where I saw a few of the other selected waiting. There was about eight of them, no one talking. At the sharp sound of my heels clicking against the floor they all turned to face me, and gave me a once over. Some of the girls wore the snottiest expressions I'd ever seen, and a few just looked nervous.

"Anyone know what we're waiting for?" I asked, looking around for a maid, or maybe even Ella.

"A tour of the palace. They said someone would come over soon." It was Genevieve Roland who had spoken- one of the first girls to be selected. She looked even prettier than in the picture, and her voice was much stronger and steadier than I'd expected it to be.

"Good lord. I hope after this we can go to our rooms- I'm completely drained." I replied, considering sitting down on the floor to give my legs a break.

"Same here. You're Fallon, correct?"

I nodded and held out my hand for her to shake. "And you're Genevieve."

"Good to see that I'm not the only one who's done my homework. That dress looks beautiful on you, by the way. I'm sure that I look completely ridiculous in mine." It sounded like it physically hurt the girl to pay me a compliment, but I appreciated it all the same.

"I think the bright colour suits you." I said, taking in the long, mint-green, pencil dress she had been put in.

Genevieve gave me a wary smile, as if trying to figure out if I was being genuine or not. Then her eyes flickered away from mine, focusing on something above my head.

I turned around to see a tall man, dressed in an expensive looking tux, hair gelled back and teeth whitened to perfection walking over to the group.

"Good evening, ladies." He greeted in a beautifully deep, smooth, well-trained voice. "My name is Alexander. I'll be showing you around the palace, and then to your rooms. Please follow me."

All of us easily complied; Genevieve and I shared an approving look, then giggled to ourselves. Alexander led us up four cases of stairs, explaining that the gardens and royal halls were off limits tonight. My calves burned by the end of it all.

We passed many balconies and windows on our way, and I was left breathless at the views. I could almost pretend to myself that if I looked hard enough, I would be able to spot Dakota.

The first room showed to us was the common room- it was filled with antique furniture, bookcases, ornate mirrors and paintings, a television much larger than the ones we owned at home and a mouth-watering display of snacks. The ladies room was pretty similar, except a lot more feminine: priceless vases filled with vibrant, rare-looking bouquets. A stunning crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, and the wallpaper was a delicate cream colour, littered with intricate designs. The library was unimaginable- I could so easily lose myself in that amount of books. I tried to remember where it was located so I could find it again as soon as possible. The dining room was huge, and I wondered if the royal family ate on that big of a table when there weren't 35 girls staying with them. Alexander explained that due to our long and tiring days, our dinner would be sent up to our rooms. They were surprisingly considerate, to which I was grateful for.

Genevieve and I didn't speak again- I think that the tour reminded us both exactly what we were here for. I still hoped that I would be able to make some friends, or else I'd become terribly lonely.

Finally, the time came that we were sent to our rooms. I could have wept with relief. As soon as I shut the door behind me, I collapsed onto the floor and threw the heels off of my feet. I let out a long groan as I stretched and turned my joints, trying to massage out the soreness.

"Miss? Miss, are you alright?"

I let out a small squeak of surprise and sat up so quickly that it made my head spin. A young lady dressed in a maid's uniform rushed over to me and offered her hand to help me up off of the floor. She was shadowed by two other girls, slightly younger than herself. I felt my cheeks flush and I accepted the help, smoothing out my crumpled dress.

"Are you alright?" She repeated, worry staining her bony features.

"Yes." I answered, though I knew I sounded breathless. "Yes, I'm quite alright."

"Tiring day I assume?" Asked one of the other maids, laughter in her voice.

I nodded my head in agreement, managing a small smile of my own.

"In that case, let us get the introductions over and done with. I'm Kaitlyn, call me Kate. The two twins here are Alison and Lillete- Ali and Lili."

I looked at the two girls standing behind Kate, only just picking up on their similarities. They both had mousy brown hair, though Ali's was cropped short and Lili's flowed down to her waist. Their eyes were both gentle shades of brown, yet Ali's seemed to burn brighter. The shape of their jaw's and noses were identical, but you could tell them apart by the freckles that were littered across Ali's cheeks.

"Nice to meet you, M'Lady." Ali said and greeted me with a grin, whereas Lili just smiled politely and ducked down into a curtsy.

"Please, call me Fallon. Or Fal, if we're using nicknames."

Kate took my hand gently and lead me into the bathroom. It was roughly the same size as the one I had at home, just a lot neater and well decorated.

They removed my makeup and scrubbed every inch of my skin until it shone. Despite my weak protests, Lili rubbed my feet for me, noticing my discomfort. Kate drew a steaming bath whilst Ali chattered about all the dresses they had been working on.

I was off to bed within the next hour. It was protocol that at least one maid stayed with the selected at all times, even when she slept. It seemed pretty odd, but I was too tired to protest.

When it was completely dark and silent, I found it much harder to fall asleep then I had anticipated. I hadn't even had time to think about what it would be like when the time came that I would actually get to meet the prince. Or my potential feelings towards him. I knew I wanted to win, but I always did. I had always been a particularly competitive person ever since the day I was born- or so my mother claims, anyway. A sore loser, too. But I refused to let my mind wander too much, knowing that it wouldn't do me any good. I forced myself to believe that I wasn't nervous, just excited. Like I had said in my interview- how scary could he be? The young man always seemed pleasant on TV, though slightly out of place seated next to his family. I always managed to catch a lock of hair out of place, or when he snickered at the wrong moment. Once he managed to start choking on his water during a report. Joe and I had a good laugh at that.

James always managed to endear every girl watching him. My friends fawned over the smallest of things, and I pondered over some of them being a better fit to this position than I was. I suppose there was no point in wondering, since it was too late now. Far too late.


End file.
